


Just Breathe

by berrychowder



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Figurative Language, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Dialogue, a lot of it, akira can't cope with akechi's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrychowder/pseuds/berrychowder
Summary: Why can't he- Why can't THEY- have a happy ending just like everyone else?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is under the same name- @asthmanian  
> \--  
> if you're suffering from depression and you're easily triggered then maybe don't read this  
> \--  
> the eating disorder is only referenced like one time, if i need to add more tags then please tell me and i will do so

Goro Akechi is like the color yellow. 

Bright, bold, gentle, joyful. 

Goro Akechi is like the color yellow. 

Searing, blinding, painful, dull. 

Goro Akechi is like many things, and many things are like him. A coin with two vastly different sides, so much so that you can no longer tell what the coin is without a proper investigation. Of course, it could never be that easy. The years of grime that has built up must be scraped away, one must devote their precious time to the care of the coin, being patient and gentle, but still adding enough pressure to get the job done. 

In the end, the coin is worth nothing. However, with the work that you put into restoring it to its original state (minus a few scratches and blurred text), it must be worth something, correct? The energy put into this little passion project turned life project wasn’t for naught? 

That is how Akira Kurusu feels about Goro Akechi. 

Some people truly cannot be saved, and unfortunately, Akira had to learn that lesson the hard way. 

The first time left him speechless. He was in denial, completely shocked at what had just happened deep inside of the cognitive ship. Anger- anger at himself, at his circumstances, at the world, soon took over. He did not feel guilt, he did not feel sadness. He wanted revenge. 

The second time left him empty. It was not unexpected, rather the opposite actually- that being  _ expected _ . They both knew it was coming, but Akira was still left with that sense of longing for things that could have been. A hole in his heart, he fell into despair. A deep depression that he couldn’t crawl out of. 

The shadows on the walls mock him. At night, they whisper in his ears, sharp and painful words, enough to send him under the covers, cowering in fear until the early hours of the morning. 

Mirrors haunt him. The reflection is never his own anymore, it’s always  _ him _ with bruised and bloodied lips curled into a wicked smile. 

Finally, he can’t take it anymore. His fist flies out, and the glass shatters into a million pieces and falls around him. Ah, wasn’t there a story about breaking mirrors? That they release trapped spirits back into the land of the living? He hears a dry and humorless laugh behind him. He supposes that is an answer in of itself. 

The exhaustion is overwhelming. One day, he collapses in the middle of the cafe, spilling a boiling hot cup of the house blend onto an unlucky customer. Later, he wakes up in bed with a pounding headache and a stone-faced Sojiro. 

Therapy, he suggests. Counseling. Anything, please. You haven’t been acting right. Futaba says that you’ve been having nightmares. Maybe we should turn the unused office at the house into a bedroom for you. You must be lonely up here all the time. Are you depressed? I know ever since that detective... 

Akira stops listening. The world is grey, bleak, deafening. Outside, a storm is brewing. It’s going to rain. 

Downstairs, Sojiro is making a phone call. 

I’m afraid that he is giving up, he says. I don’t want him to end up hurting himself. I don’t know what to do. 

It’s painful. A knife twists inside of his abdomen, stirring up his insides. 

_ I don’t want to die, _ he thinks.  _ But Akechi didn’t want to, either.  _

He brings his knees to his chest, falling onto his side. Did Akechi curse him? Or has it always been like this? His vision blurs, and he feels something wet on his cheeks. Strange. 

The curry reminds him of blood. It makes his body tremble. He shoves the plate out of the way and empties the contents of his stomach onto the dusty attic floor. It burns his throat. He cries. He’s starving.  _ Why are you doing this to me?  _

No one visits him. Not anymore, at least. Without fail, each of his teammates, his confidants, send him a message. Usually some words of encouragement, something to motivate him. Maybe they would help if he would ever bother to read them. 

Morgana has been staying with Futaba. He’s the one that likely told her about the dreams, who in turn told Sojiro, who in turn told… Well, someone. Does it even matter? 

His hair is greasy, and acne has begun to spread on his forehead near his hairline. It’s difficult to get out of bed. Something weighs him down, it takes him by the wrists and keeps him restrained. He feels disgusting, and he knows that he must look awful, but his will has simply disappeared.  _ Please, stop torturing me.  _

Distantly, he wonders if he would be able to summon his Persona in this condition. If the Metaverse still existed, that is. If it did, he probably wouldn’t be like this in the first place. 

_ I’m so selfish. I’m sorry.  _

Sumire, those two had connections. She called him a friend, right? An acquaintance? Sae Niijima. Maybe even Makoto. They all knew him, they’re just like him, so why can’t he move on just like they have? 

_ You were right. I’m giving up.  _

He clenches his fists, squeezing so hard that his nails form crescents in his palms. 

_ Forgive me. I can’t be alone anymore.  _

The fresh air is welcomed. It’s been so long since he has truly left his bed for anything other than personal hygiene. His thoughts are running at a thousand miles per hour, but at least they are quiet for once. He feels relaxed. At peace. The best he has felt since…

_ I just miss him so much.  _

Akechi left one thing behind that Akira managed to snag before the police raided the place- the attaché case. It was mostly filled with unfamiliar case files and old school work. A sleek laptop that he doesn’t know the password to, and… 

_ I couldn’t be strong.  _

There’s one bullet in the chamber, and he wonders vaguely who that final bullet was for. Would Akechi have pressed the silver barrel against Akira’s head that day back in November? Would he have pulled the trigger? Or did Akechi save it for himself? In a last ditch effort to take fate into his own hands? Oh, well. It doesn’t really matter anyway. 

Akechi’s dead.

The metal is cool against his skin. He trembles, it’s heavy. He’s scared. 

_ Goodbye. _

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like akira would really struggle with akechi's death the second time around. revenge motivated him to keep going the first time since akechi made him promise to change shido's heart, but the second time? there was nothing to fuel akira to keep going. the metaverse was gone, akechi was gone, his whole purpose was gone. idk, i feel like that would be a difficult adjustment. thanks for reading.


End file.
